Perfect
by ClarinetAngel
Summary: Rudy get a moment to himself in his work space. Prequel to 'Olive oil'.


Perfect

A dim blue light steadily glows in the dark cluttered room. Shelves stacked high with bits and pieces of metal, wires, gadgets and gizmos. The tables covered with beakers, scalpels, chemicals and tools. A hunched figure can be barley seen in the dark, its shadow illuminated by the same blue glow that slowly seeps from the source in front of it. Long thin appendages touch the source of the light with delicate, faint brushes, holding the source like a rare gem as the blue light licks at the thin wires, turning them a topaz blue. Shadows dance nimbly over the metallic, glowing object as they tweak with the inner workings, causing them to make low hums of approval, as if they were a house cat being petted just the right way. Following up the gentle fingers, the dim glow reaches and reflects off of hard, concentrated eyes. The blue lights dance amongst the grey backgrounds, creating a shocking contrast between the two colors. The eyes stare unblinking at the machinery in front of their field of vision. A bead of sweat rolls smoothly down sharp features from a stringy mess of gold and grey locks. The sweat is not from either stress or worry but rather excitement and glee. "Absolutely bloody perfect", a deep and clinical voice whispers to itself but yet is directed towards the piece of synthetic. The voice's fingers retract from the now flawless piece of mechanics as the now softened eyes rake over it, examining every inch of the metal. Standing from his seated position the figure stretches his stiff muscles. His figure wiry and thin. Faint popping sounds can be heard from bones finally being moved once again. Picking up the synthetic piece he's finished working on, he places it onto one of the littered shelves. Work now finished he lays back onto his chair but in a much more relaxed position. Trained hands that do nothing but work diligently on complex mathematics and mechanics slowly trail down a thin chest, smoothing over a flat stomach, still dressed within a grey and wrinkled suit. The hands move further down until they reach a leather belt, tightened all the way but still too loose for the boney waist. Quick fingers undo the piece of leather and metal, fully removing the strap from its holds. A palm moves a bit more south and finds a growing bump still confined in the smoke colored suit. Liking the slight friction caused by the tailored confinements the hand continued palming the slowly growing erection. A soft grunt escapes thin lips as pleasure spikes through the heated body. The growing arousal rubbed against itchy fabric and rigid zipper, making it redder and more needy for the soft touch of a hand. After a few more rubs, the hands begin undoing the button and zipper of the trousers. One hand reached into the open fabric and after pushing past the second layer it reached its prize. Hair falls forward over the now flushed face as he shifts forward. The hand feels slick from sweat but cool from handling the sterilized metal. The hand only covers about two thirds of the heavy flesh. It moves up and down slowly at first, dragging out the tantalizing pleasure. Fingers can feel smooth ridges under the pulsating skin. The air hung thick with the sickly sweet smell of hormones radiating off the human dermis. Blunt nails are pressed over a sensitive tip, slightly dipping into the wet opening. White and clear droplets of semen are pushed from the plump, pink head as the hand continues pumping the shaft of the blood gorged organ. The pumped skin makes a slick slapping sound as it moves up and down, being pulled over the head and then back down off of it. Heavy breathing matches the pace of the wet sounds, creating a perverse a cappella. Eyes screw shut as the laud pants' are broken by a deep vibrating moan, echoing in a deep vibrato that buzzes through the room. The sexual organ pulsates and releases its built up load. The hand loosens a bit, but continues its movements just a bit softer. The white fluid is pushed from the contracting muscular pipes and shoot up onto the still moving hand. A bit of the hot liquid found its way onto his pants, staining the grey with the white substance. The body finally lays limp and satisfied. The still clean hand reaches out searching for something to clean up the mess with and finds a old rag, normally used to wipe away oil stains. Once everything was cleaned he tucked himself back into his pants and threw the rag onto a small tool table. It's been forever sense Rudy has been given a moment to be by himself and finding that release was all he needed. Still seated Rudy could feel his eyes get heavy but he knows he needs to get to work on the next broken synthetic. So grabbing a few of his tools he begun getting ready on his next project until he heard the door to his office open.

"Hey! Rudy we need a fix up"!

Smiling to himself he rolled over to the source of the voice. Then again it can get pretty lonely just being by himself with no one around and no real work to do.


End file.
